


This Was Not In Our Retirement Plan

by Jay42Leatherback666



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Barebacking, Bottom Will Graham, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Fluff, M/M, Murder Husbands, Power Bottom Will Graham, Smut, Top Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:34:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23611633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay42Leatherback666/pseuds/Jay42Leatherback666
Summary: Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter fell off the face off the earth 5 years ago.Majority of the world believed them dead and, in truth, the two were happy to leave it like that.With their relationship evolved, the murder Husbands wish to spend the remainder of their days in bliss.Jack Crawford was never willing to let that happen.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 13
Kudos: 311





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I wrote half of this at 12AM and the other half the next day at 12PM.  
> I haven't really gone over and beta read it so sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes.
> 
> I just want Hannibal and Will to be an awesome power couple with a dog and good retirement plan.  
> Jack, I do not like.

Will was aware of the differences between he and Hannibal. 

One of those differences was their very polar opposite nature's. One would be cowed from intimidation Hannibal Lecter's mere demeanour garnered, would always be on their toes, alert, as he prowled like the skilled and sleek apex predator he was. But Will Graham was a different predator all together; a predator of feral violence and thrashing emotion he could sharpen into a weapon. Considered even more deadly if the long-appointed Ripper had claimed him as his husband--his mate-his beloved. 

Everyone in the entire US government knew to still at the mention of the two cannibals despite them not being seen in five years. 

Their nature's, Will realised, also showed through in their passions. And he didn't just mean Hannibal's self assured slow tracking of a filthy pig varying from Will's passionate whirl of tearing teeth and claws. 

No, right now, Will meant their sexual intercourse. 

For instance, when they had first tossed away all pretenses, it had been a mad dash to completion. To claim the other. 

He still remembered that night, blood dripping from their hair and staining their pink skin crimson. It was five years ago and Will still remembered the collision the two of them made with a trio of bodies around them, recently gutted and torn to shreds. 

He'd shredded Hannibal's drenched shirt from his shoulders before hauling him onto the ex-profiler's body. Smothering him. Merging with him. And they'd fucked like beasts. Will had cried out through the tears of this new pleasure, Hannibal roaring to the skies as he took possession over Will, over his virginity and entire being. Only after, when Hannibal had come with his teeth in his beloved's shoulder, did he realise that Will had also claimed him. 

That raw fucking was how Will had them whenever Hannibal's teasing touched a nerve. Hannibal would be yanked down into Will or splayed forcefully onto his back which never failed to get him hard and groaning. Three hundred dollar piece suits and underwear in shambles with Will's impatience to have Hannibal's cock in him. To be full and lose his mind in the untame throes of pleasure. To come untouched when Hannibal's cock hit  _ just  _ right inside him. By the end of it, the younger man would be shrouded in teeth marks, sometimes blood lazily drooling down his porcelain skin. But Will always made sure to leave his own evidence, red claw marks down Hannibal's powerful back or the bedsheets in rags when he was taken from behind like a bitch in heat. 

Then, however, there was Hannibal's love making. 

It drove Will insane. The slow, patient thrusts that followed after what seemed gruelling hours of opening Will's aching, experienced hole. 

It drove Will insane right now. 

He gasped into the lavish pillows, biting down to hold in his whine of frustration as Hannibal pulled out his dick to the tip only to push in agonisingly slowly. Then again and again and again. 

If it were the evening or night, when Will's lust danced the best, he would have Hannibal groaning and growling into his skin on his back as consequence for teasing. Instead, it was a grey morning in the bungalow villa in the middle of nowhere in a country Will couldn't recall at the moment. 

Not with Hannibal's thick girth pressing against the bundle of nerves that made his back arch. 

"Hannibal!" he choked, tears welling up as he tried to move his hips to go faster.

Hannibal, the prick, only hushed his husband, stilling his hips with one hand, "it's okay, my love."

He kisses over Will's collar bone and lapped his tongue over his rib cage. 

The cannibal's free hand was entwined with Will's that was grasping at air while he nuzzled at the breastbone where Will's heart beat beneath. 

Morning sex was always Hannibal's time to be in control in bed. Whenever the sun cast the valley in golden or foggy light, Will Graham was a prisoner to the only jail he accepted as his: Hannibal's love making. 

Once more, the slow languid thrusts, as teasing to Will's insides as the skimming of Hannibal's face over his torso. Locks over pulse points that had Will jerking beneath him. 

The older man let out a breathy moan as Will clamped around him, sucking in his cock to the tight heat. 

Because even after being made love to and also fucked until he passed out with a raw throat, Will was still so tight. Hannibal purred at the knowledge. 

"My, Will," he breathed into his curls, "beautiful boy, so good for me." He thrusted in with a harsher force, earning a cry. "Taking me so well. Taking me so tight as if it were the first time all over again."

Will gasped and churned at the words, at the sensation in his body. "Ha- Hannibal!" 

"I know, mylimasis," he kissed his sweaty temple, tasting the love-crazed lust with a tongue that had consumed hundreds, "Tell me."

"Feels so good," Will slurs, biting the corner of a pillow, earning a tuttering.

"Now, Will, do speak up," and the increase of thrusts, though still languid, earned a drawn out moan.. 

"Feels so good, Hannibal! Fuck me- make love to me, just fill me. Fill me, fill me, fill me! Make me scream!" Will howled. 

Hannibal gave a growl and held his Will closer, snapping his hips in a calculated way. Calculated, calculated like everything he did. 

Will was bending up and down now, squeezing the cock carressing his inner walls, moans sweet and desperate. 

"Beg," Hannibal demanded, panting. 

Will glowered with tear stained eyes.  _ Beautiful,  _ Hannibal knew. 

And indeed did Hannibal also know how Will needed to come. The tightening of their joined hands spoke volumes. 

"Please, Hannibal," Will hissed, prostate hit for a dozen time. 

Hannibal's hips stuttered and he made sure to hit home every time he drilled into Will's grasping hole, heat curling in both their stomachs. 

Will came with a shout that Hannibal swallowed, consuming what he could of his husband while still keeping him whole. 

With that in mind and Will's hole spasming around him from orgasm, Hannibal came with a stuttering gasping grunt to the ceiling. 

Will twitched and lightly moaned at the feeling of Hannibal's come filling him to the point it dribbled out. He urged their hips closer together, wanting to remain marked for as long as possible by his beloved.

Any other day, he'd be demanding Hannibal to fuck his come deeper, claim him like he's suppose to. Rile his husband up until he encircled his throat with a heavy palm. Will would then sputter to breed him. 

But that was when Will was in charge, per se. Hannibal had made love to him sweetly, driving them to completion. 

Then, the two laid like that, just as they did after hunts, revelling in what and who they were; the silver rings adorned with bloodstones were anything to go by. Breathing in each others musk, nuzzling at their throats and brushing lips with the delicacy of walking on glass. 

Will's post-orgasmic bliss simmered till it left tingles in his fingertips, drifting through his Husbands hair, surveying the room they'd come to learn every inch of. 

The white duvets accenting the raw oak of the bedframe, curtains drawn back to stare into the desolate hills of wiry woods and mountain rubble. The windows were almost from floor to ceiling in the bedroom, the spectacle they just made one to horrify the neighbours… if they had any. 

Will's preference for isolation was one Hannibal gave unto albeit they were close enough to a decent opera house. 

Hannibal stirred from where his head rested on Will's scar-painted stomach. His maroon eyes stared up at Will as if he were the most fascinating thing in existence. In some sense, he was, being an empath of great amount that had left everything for a serial killer he was suppose to vanquish. 

"We're quite the love story, aren't we?" Will murmured, rough fingers gliding from hair to defined cheek bones. 

Hannibal's smirk fit for a shark was answer enough. 

Outside, unbeknownst to the two men, waited a man of their past. Jack Crawford's lips were drawn back in a grimace at the disturbing show he'd witnessed between the two men. 

He hadn't earned any pleasure from the husbands' love making, only revulsion and disgust. Now, Jack was no homophobe, attending Alana Bloom's wedding with her now-wife, but it was who the men were that made bile churn in his stomach. 

Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham. 

The Murder Husbands. 

Various counts of first-degree murder. 

Cannibals. 

And to think they'd died after diving into the Atlantic. Jack should have known better. The call he'd gained from across seas had all but dragged him back down into the grim hunt for Hannibal The Cannibal. Except now, there were two of them. 

Only two dozen people were accompanying him on this extraction of the two murderers, twelve from the FBI and twelve from the European government. 

In a few hours, Jack recalled, they would storm the house, blocking off all possible exits and alterior paths that the two could flee too. Solemnly, he knew the possibility of having every one leave alive was slim. 

The man witnessed what made him choke on his spit. Will Graham standing by sliding glass doors in an oversized shirt that was not his, just about hiding his limp erection. He stared off absent kindly to the wastes of the countryside, stirring slowly the spoon in his steaming drink. Hannibal padded from most likely the kitchen, silk pajama bottoms and a bare chest, wrapping his arms almost tenderly around Will's shorter figure. It was domestic bliss Jack would believe genuine and satisfying if he did not know what blood the two had spilled. Continued to spill. 

While they wisely avoided making a spectacle, the two men who now nuzzled each other like love sick teens had left bodies in their wake, staged as muggings.

The hand on his belt groaned under his tightening grip, glaring holes at the two men who murmured softly to each other. Then, to his further amazement, Will slid open the glass door for a honey coloured mutt of a dog to slide out, bounding over the wastes to sniff and squat. 

From afar, Will brought his hand up behind him to cradle the agile face of his significant other, leaning back into the warmth of his body chest hair pawing at his bitten back through the hanging shirt. Hannibal kissed his palm, murmuring into it. 

It was their retirement, Jack realised. Then bitterly, a retirement they got from being monsters all while Bella hadn't seen the new year. 

The man vowed to bring the two to justice, locking them up to rot. He would double his efforts to keep the two killers separate, regardless of the fury it'd most likely spur from them. 

He watched, silent as a hawk from the brush on the hilltop, as Will encircled his hands around Hannibal before being picked up by him, legs around his narrow waist. 

Jack didn't look this time as the ex-profiler was thrown onto the bed and ravished. Though it didn't stop the screams of pleasure he preferred to think of as pain that rang in the wind. 

At 12:00PM, the government officials made their move, the house having quietened after seemingly endless rounds between the two targets. 

Jack clicked the safety off his gun as he and two others slipped first into the house, the sliding doors silently opening. 

As expected, the house, small as it was, announced it's keepers immaculate manners with clean wooden floors and couches spotless of any substances though old. The mantle was gleaming beneath the cobweb barren ceiling. Living room clear, it lead to the adjoined kitchen- Jack couldn't look at the neat counters, all too aware of what meat was prepared undoubtedly. 

He paused at the soft padding of footsteps, locking his gun onto it's source. The aforementioned dog from that morning stared at them from the hallway, blocking their path to where the Husbands had recently ceased their lovemaking. From down that hallway came the hiss of a shower. 

Warily, the dog shifted it's weight. With scanning eyes, Jack saw the comfy dog bed in the corner of the living room, a bowl in the kitchen. He had to narrow his eyes on the golden tag that read the dogs name. 

"Felicity," he cooed, softly as he could, praying that the running water drowned out his words from the sensitive cannibal. He made a 'come' gesture at the dog, who cocked her head at the mention of her name. Jack could only assume she'd been trained obedient by the control freak of the couple, knowing Hannibal's strict compromise on having a dog. 

A shift from one of his squadron had him sharply gesturing to in no way hurt the dog. Jack from five years ago still understood the love Will Graham had for his animals, shuddering at the rage he could possess if they were injured. 

Even when he wasn't a cannibal, Jack didn't want to be on Will's bad side. 

So after some gentle coercing, Felicity was secured outside the home, happily getting pets from the stand-by officers. 

The team, now increasing in a few more numbers, surrounding the house, were tense as Crawford made his way down the hall. He passed another bathroom, a pantry he didn't look too long at, a study that screamed 'Dr Lecter'. Then he reached the end of the hallway, the floorboards never once creeking. 

Peering through the ajar door's view, he saw creme carpets, a oak bed frame that had ruffled blankets and pillows splayed on it. A few droplets of blood strewn across the pale material. 

Worse of all was the dosing figure in the bed. From the mop of chocolate curls on his head, Jack knew it was his former profiler. And he was stark naked if the lolling leg from beneath the covers were anything to go by. 

Jack and two others crept into the room, thankful for the plush carpet that muted their steps. 

Jack took in the rest of the room, adorned with a loveseat, drawers and cupboard. There was one door to the right of the room, where no doubt the other half of the Husbands bathed. 

Two guns pointed at the door, waiting for the inevitable, Jack returned his eyes to Will. It had been five years and yet the man looked better than he'd ever seen him, body flush and full of life, eyebags from nightmares nowhere to be found.

White sheets thankfully covered most of his nudity, the swell of his ass flashed at the man, arms beneath luxurious pillows. Cooling sweat shined off his now tanned skin. The room stunk of sex, making Jack's lip curl, unable to see how one could love such a monster. 

"Hannibal?" Will slurred, half asleep, sensing the heavy presence beside the bed. 

Like a viper, Jack struck. He clamped his hand over Will's mouth, meaty arm around his neck to threaten his windpipe, all while a gun settled on his temple. 

Will was awake in an instant, at first thrashing as a captured animal before his eyes settled on who held him. 

Once meek and watery blue, Jack saw how those eyes were now like a summer sky, an oceans fury ripping through them with the rippling of surprise. Obviously, he had not thought to see his former boss ever again. 

Jack couldn't help but swell with pride, smug he'd finally gained the upper hand. 

Warning with his eyes not to move, Will remained in the man's hold, assessing with cold eyes. Jack came to the conclusion he liked it better when Will avoided eye contact. 

The bathroom door swinging open brought everyone's attention to Hannibal, who stepped back into the bedroom, in a dress shirt and slacks. His maroon eyes only widened a fraction at the sight he now beheld. 

After passing over the agents who held him at gunpoint, his gaze settled on Jack. Jack who, he noted with ire, held his lover in his deadly grasp. 

"Jack," Hannibal said, "What a surprise."

Jack bashed his teeth in a growl, "Shut up and get on your knees. Hands above your head."

The older man simply titled his head at the commands, eyes attached to the two on the bed. 

"It is rude to come into someone's house uninvited," Hannibal said, taking a step that had the other two agents shifting. His eyes became withering, "just as it is rude to hold my naked husband in your grasp."

His words ended in a snarl and if it had been a good time, the keen Will let out at the possessiveness his husband released would've earned him a fucking. 

But instead, it earned a disapproving glare from Jack. 

"On your knees," Jack snarled. 

Hannibal's lip curled in a shivering smile before he pounced. "I only get on my knees for my Will." 

The nearest agent to him was dead within seconds, a neck snap ending his life. The second failed to click the safety off his gun before Hannibal lunged at him. Blood stained the creme carpet. 

It had happened in a flash. 

Hannibal whirled on Jack only to pause at the sight of a gun to his beloved's forehead. The nozzle pressed into Will's temple to the point it'd leave a mark. Hannibal suppressed a snarl at the thought, vowing to end Jack's miserable existence slowly. 

"On. Your. Knees." Jack ground out. 

A look at Will's beautiful eyes told Hannibal all he needed to do. Half way down to the ground, Will struck, shutting his teeth around the fingers of his capture. Jack released a bellow that was cut short, being toppled after he struck Will with the butt of the gun by Hannibal. 

Hannibal roared as he stole the lamp from the bedside table and smashed it onto the FBI agent's head. The man lost consciousness with the sole blow. 

Hannibal felt arms around him, drawing him up and to his feet. He dropped the lamp and cradled his Will close, inspecting for damage and releasing a breath when he found none. 

"What're we going to do with him?" Will asked from beneath Hannibal's chin. 

"He wouldn't have come alone," Hannibal replied, "he most likely has others surrounding the place."

He looked down at his beautiful husband. Will entwined their hands, rings glistening in the midday sun skirting from around the clouds. 

"Then let's go say hi," Will breathed against Hannibal's lips. 

The Cannibal's told him what he thought. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, the Murder Husbands escaped, a trail of bodies behind them as well as one with them. 
> 
> What a better retirement plan activity then cutting up your previous boss? Oh and of course, sexy time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's just say I was bored and this was extremely difficult to write with a bratty baby bird climbing all over me. 
> 
> Enjoy.

If Jack Crawford were not a prideful man, he would admit that he never expected to wake up after he’d been knocked out in the house in Venice. He would admit how he believed that his final heroic act for the FBI would be what sent him to see his Bella again. But Jack Crawford bled with pride, so he would never tell anyone the surprise that washed over him when he opened his eyes again. 

Not that he had anyone to tell. 

Right now, he was strapped down beneath an eerie sole lightbulb, on his back as leather straps held his bulky build in place. Beads of nervous sweat dotted his brow. Instinct had him tugging at the restraints, testing them, wild eyes searching desperately around the room he was prisoner in. Cement bleak walls stared impassively back. 

Something told Jack this is where he was to die. 

No, that prideful voice reared its head for one final fight. Not today. Not like this. 

For there was no doubt in the agent’s mind who had him trapped and bound. He knew what fate would most likely await him. How he would be ‘honoured’ by those men’s twisted morals. 

Jack bit back his panic like a bull, determined and grunting. He honed his senses to accumulate any detail he could. They told him he was probably below ground, the low temperature from being in a basement as well as near a freezer that no doubt lurked down there with him. The steel drains lining the perimeter of the room confirmed his suspicions. 

Stilling his breath, he strained to hear anything he could. 

Buzzing silence. 

Then, a sudden thump. Followed by a groan of impact. There were the distinct sounds of rushed words beneath breath. More groans chased the words. 

Having gotten an eyeful earlier, Jack knew of the relationship between the two cannibals. But he hadn’t heard anything. Now, the thumping of a counter being jostled and the wet slap of skin were Jack’s torture. Breathy moans turned into squeaks and gibberish cries. 

Jack contorted his face into disgust, as if it would stop the actions of the men behind the bolted door.

Instead, the sounds just quickened. There was the murmuring of another language- Hannibal’s tongue. It was drowned out by keening. 

A noise and words that Jack Crawford never expected to hear from Will Graham. 

“If you don’t fuck me faster, Hannibal, I will restraint you tonight, goddammit!”

“Oh?” came the intrigued purr. “And what would you be doing?”

“Fucking riding those damn expensive toys you bought!” Will snarled, “Like that crystal dildo! Like seriously, where do you even get one? Now fuck me harder so I won’t walk tomorrow.”

A gutteral noise that Jack wished he didn’t hear came no doubt from Hannibal. The slamming of the counter they were occupying became louder- as did Will’s inaudible moans and keens. 

“Holy- Hann- fucking shit- goddamit fuck me-” rang through the cold basement. “Make me cum, make me cum, make me cum!”

Will reached his crescendo with a choppy screech. The slamming picked up and abruptly stopped. 

“Mylimasis?” rasped the debauched Hannibal, confused. 

“You’ll be coming later,” Will huffed, reverting back to his more reserved demeanour from what Jack could hear. “We still have a friend waiting for us, afterall.” 

Jack wished they would both drop dead. He didn’t want to see the two men who had played him like a cheap kazoo who had just fucked within earshot.   
It would be an insult to injury to his failure. 

The swinging creek of a door and the two entered. 

One would never had thought that they had been fucking like animals mere moments ago with how prisine Hannibal’s clothes were smoothed. One wouldn’t believe Will to be the origin of those pleasure screams with how reserved and harsh he stared. 

“Good evening, Jack,” Hannibal greeted, always the picture of sophistication his partner lacked. 

“Hannibal,” Crawford grit out through his clenched teeth, aware that if he blatantly ignored the man he risked infuriating both the killers more. 

“You ruined our retirement plan,” Will’s flat statement said, bristling as a wild cat would. A placating hand smoothed over his black dress shirt. 

“Now, beloved,” Hannibal near cooed, unabashed as Will gave slight glare, “Our old friend had no way of knowing of our plans.” 

The Lithuanian then pulled open closet doors that had hidden in the shadows of the room. The sole yellow light above Jack tinkled against whatever contents were in its depths. Jack didn’t need to see the glinting of steel to know what awaited.   
Experienced hands skimmed over the options. 

“However,” his voice dimmed and from where Will slunk, Jack saw his ocean eyes glean, “you were rude.”

Blood eyes met chocolate and fear flooded Jack’s veins, seeing the utter rage and disgust that promised to end in bloodshed. Will grinned, taking the blade from his husband. 

“How did you escape?” If Jack were to die, he needed to know how he failed. 

Happily content as his significant other shifted where he stood, Hannibal said, “I won’t lie to you- many died. And we didn’t escape entirely unscathed.”

Baby blue eyes switched to the Lithuanian, filling with believable concern at the mention of a wound. Jack knew better than to believe it. The bandages poking from beneath Hannibal’s suit were proof enough. 

“But,” Will picked up as his husband wiped a butcher knife overly clean, “We ended up dragging you with us; a good hostage situation and we fled, unwilling-” the brown haired man stalked closer to the table “-to let someone so rude to not get suitable punishment for his behaviour.”

Eyes trained so heavily on the ex-profiler, Jack didn’t see Hannibal leave the closet of weapons. He did feel, however, the serrated edge of the knife split the skin of his throat open. As he choked on his own blood, the yellow light became an aura that surrounded the face of his Bella. 

Will bared his teeth, partly disappointed, partly exhilarated, as his former boss struggled before ceasing movement forever. 

“Problem, mylimasis?” Hannibal probed, eyebrows drawn in concern. He would tear to shreds whatever plagued his husband, even steep as so low as to do it with a gun if it meant it's decease. 

Instead, Will frowned at him, “I wanted it to last longer.” 

Hannibal merely gestured to the body of Jack Crawford, a slight smile no one else would dare catch on his face tugging at his lips. 

Will answered with his feral grin, wielding his knife and wildly slashing at the lifeless body. With the blood splatters streaking the walls, Hannibal recalled the reason he invested in such a room. While his husband’s design could be messy, the after effect was a sight to behold and worship. 

And worship Hannibal did. 

After a solid half an hour, Will ceased his menstruations, every inch of him drenched in blood from his sopping hair to his shining shoes. He was the depiction of beauty and Hannibal wanted nothing more from where he cleaned the blades and scattered blood to taste him. He had before. 

The look in Will’s eyes told Hannibal everything, crystal clear like that of the cleanest rivers had Hannibal moving. A curled paw seized Will’s hip, bringing his soaked crimson body flush against Hannibal’s. Lips crashed together with the force of colliding stars, the world disappearing as each took and claimed the other’s mouth. Tongues fought until the European sucked on Will’s tongue, a high pitch whine stirring his loins. 

With a pop, Hannibal veered back, keeping their pelvis ground against each other. 

“Such lewd sounds,” Hannibal playfully chastises. 

All Will could do was pant, tongue lolling out of his mouth from where it had followed Hannibal’s suction. Blush dusted his cheeks from beneath blood smears. Hannibal leaned down to lick up some of the copper fluid. 

Will then leaned forward onto his beloved, on his tiptoes due to the slight height difference. “Please, Hannibal,” Will hissed, “make me come apart.” 

The beast so harshly tamed reared its head within Hannibal, seething to fuck and claim like it longed to every time it's mate offered itself up. 

The southerner found himself thrown with enticing force against the counter where the unrecognisable body of Jack Crawford cooled. Blood still oozed from dying veins. The smell of raw meat clogged Will’s senses as his soiled trousers were ripped from his skin.

“Those were $900,” Will rasped, looking over his shoulder with blurry eyes.

Hannibal adorned his famed shark’s grin, “I’ll buy you another, my beautiful boy.”

His keening turned into a moan as Hannibal spread his cheeks and licked a long string from tailbone to scrotum. He nibbled on Will’s hole, sending the younger man to thrash at the impact of the muscle. 

How Hannibal loved to see his Will go wild whenever he ate him out- it often ended in needing to buy a new set of bedsheets. 

“Your hole looks ravishing,” Hannibal purred, leaning down to suck.

When Will arched his back, Hannibal landed a heavy smack upon his ass, sending the round flesh jiggling. Will cut his moan short with a choke. 

“No moving,” Hannibal murmured into the flesh. For once, Will obeyed, resting his chin in a pool of Crawford. The copper sent and menstrations sent blood rushing further south.

Tears sprung to Will’s eyes as Hannibal unleashed teasing nips and soothing strokes of his tongue against his asshole. Only did the tears roll clear paths down his stained cheeks when that tongue carved it's way inside, caressing the walls of his channels. Will all but howled to the ceiling at the sensation.

He hissed as two spanks made his ass turn pink, his wiggling disdaining Hannibal’s work. 

“Hannibal, p-ple-please!” Will begged, hand sliding down to where his cock hung leaking heavy amounts of pre-cum. 

A heavy handed hit had Will going limp. 

Hannibal growled from behind him, “Now none of that, you will cum like a good boy.” 

Another smack that had him jerking up the table. 

“Completely untouched.”

That said, Hannibal dove back in. 

Will felt as if he would combust if his leaking, red dick that hung heavy between his legs didn’t get friction. Of course, both he and Hannibal knew he could cum untouched. They’d fucked enough times to know it. 

The tongue was a spear against his walls, wracking his body with shudders. He tore at the ruined flesh on the table with desperate hands, mouth so open to the point blood assaulted his senses. Hannibal hit the spot that had Will cumming all over the semi-clean floor, thick ropes of semen painting the cement. 

Hannibal revelled in what he had coerced from his husband, the inner walls of his Will clenching around him. 

Once Will collapsed, held up by the waist via Hannibal’s arm, did the man retrieve his tongue. 

Looking down at the flushed back of his husband, the Lithuanian couldn’t wait to bury his cock in the exasperated man below him. 

But for now, Hannibal knew, gathering his husband up in his arms like a bride, Will needed to sleep. While his nightmares have lessened, they still kept him from his well needed sleep. 

So Hannibal climbed up the rickety steps of their basement, their back up home not as nice as the previous but sufficient enough. The bed was plush and ready, Hannibal tucking Will beneath the satin sheets. Hoping his beloved would have a peaceful sleep, the older man went to go salvage what he could from Jack’s mangled body. 

Meat, afterall, may be limited depending on how much heat they were under since their past homicide.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> Should I do another chapter?  
> I really thought this would just be a one shot. I'm not sure. 
> 
> Have a great day!


End file.
